Page 85 of Offside Attraction

Jordan grinned. "That depends. Do you have your car?”

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Rhonda

Rhonda's pulsepounded in her ears as she got in her car. After all the crap Jordan had given her about not having snow tires, she didn’t especially look forward to him noticing all the other maintenance issues she’d been ignoring.

"Where are we going?" she asked, glancing over and catching his eyes on her.

"Not far." Jordan had his phone out, looking at a map. “Just turn right out of this parking lot.

She nodded, her heart rushing like a white noise machine. “I saw your goal.”

Jordan turned to her, that dimple so close to forming, she wanted to reach over and press her finger into his cheek. “I know.”

She rolled her eyes and stopped at a red light. Jordan gave her the last few directions, and within a few minutes, she pulled into a small parking lot.

The restaurant was a converted house, its windows glowing with warm, inviting light. Rhonda opened her door and stepped out, her boots crunching on gravel. Jordan walked ahead of her, and she shamelessly ran her eyes over his backside.

Jordan opened the door, and as she walked in, his hand brushed her lower back. She barely felt it because of her coat, but electricity still shot from her belly button to her toes.

The restaurant was small and intimate, the tables dressed in white linens with a flickering candle on each one. The aroma of herbs and fresh bread filled the air, making her mouth water.

A hostess greeted them and led them to a table near the back. Rhonda slid into her chair and reached for the menu.

Jordan cleared his throat. "What are you in the mood for?"

Rhonda couldn’t focus on the words in front of her. If their server hadn’t approached with a silver pitcher of water, she would’ve told him exactly the menu she had rolling through her head.

Rhonda looked up as the waiter approached. “What do you recommend?”

“Do you eat red meat?” he asked. Rhonda nodded. “Then I’d do the New York strip, it comes with a bed of mashed sweet potato and fennel, or the house specialty, our bourbon braised meatloaf.”

Rhonda hummed in her throat and dropped the menu. “Meatloaf it is.”

Jordan grinned. “You don’t have to think about it?” She shook her head, and he set his menu on top of hers. “Then I’ll do the steak.”

Their server beamed. “I’ll get that in for you.”

Jordan leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving hers. "So, where should we start?”

Rhonda’s clothes suddenly felt two sizes too small. She could think of a hundred ways to answer that with a smart-ass comment, but that wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what she wanted, either. Theoretically.

She took a sip of water to buy herself some time. The cool liquid did nothing to calm the heat that was climbing up her neck. "Umm, well, I work." She set the glass down and ran a finger along the condensation on the outside. "But you already know that." She winced.

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “That looked painful.”

“Like passing a kidney stone.”

“Have you passed one before?”

She nodded. “Once.”

“Nice, so you have a shredded urethra. Now we can talk about anything.”

Rhonda laughed. “Hemorrhoids?”

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